I love technology. I’m basically a walking Best Buy Geek Squad in human form—High-Def TVs, video games, gadgets, blinking lights, you name it. If it plugs in, hums, or has more buttons than a fighter jet cockpit, I’m your guy.
But here’s the secret superpower nobody talks about: I also know exactly how not to use technology. I treat it like a loaded gun — point it the wrong way and boom, disaster. Sadly, most people skip that chapter in the manual. They just mash buttons until something happens, then act shocked when it does.
Case in point: a recipe for the most awkward traffic jam in history.
Back in the day, long car rides meant staring out the window or playing “I Spy” until your eyes crossed. My parents had one of those “portable” TVs that weighed roughly the same as a small child and got about three channels if you held the rabbit ears just right while praying to the antenna gods. It was adventure. It was pirate treasure hunting on fuzzy UHF static.
Fast-forward to the 21st century: automakers finally catch up and slap flip-down DVD screens into minivans. Kids rejoice. Parents rejoice. Road trips become bearable. What could possibly go wrong?
Everything, if you’re the kind of person who thinks “leave the disc in” is a solid plan.
Picture this: I’m crawling home on the San Tomas Expressway one dark evening, stuck in that special California traffic where nobody moves but everyone’s in a hurry. I end up glued to the bumper of a totally normal-looking green minivan. Lights everywhere — dashboard glowing like a Christmas tree, radio dial lit up, turn signals winking like they’re flirting.
Then I notice it: the big pop-down screen hanging from the ceiling, perfectly positioned for the rear seat so the driver can’t see it. Smart design for keeping the kids quiet.
Except… there were no kids in sight.
What was playing on that glowing 7-inch beacon of modern convenience was not Finding Nemo. It was the kind of film that comes in a plain brown wrapper, gets sold behind a beaded curtain, and has a plot summary that reads like “they met, they didn’t talk much, the pizza guy arrived.”
Full visuals. Crystal clear. In glorious high-def. To the entire line of cars behind them.
I sat there, jaw on the floorboard, watching what can only be described as an X-rated drive-in movie… while driving. The minivan is puttering along at 5 mph like it’s on a Sunday stroll, oblivious driver focused on the road ahead, while the rear window is basically streaming premium cable to the whole expressway.
And here’s the best part: nobody honked. Nobody flipped anyone off. Everyone just… stared. Like rubberneckers at the world’s most inappropriate billboard. Phones probably came out. Screenshots were taken. Legends were born in group chats that night.
Moral of the story? If you and your significant other like to spice up the commute with a little “private viewing” in the family hauler, do yourself (and everyone else) a favor: eject the disc. Power off the screen. Or at the very least, flip it up before you merge onto the highway.
Because nothing says “responsible adult” like accidentally turning your minivan into a rolling adult theater for a captive audience of commuters who now know way more about your taste in cinema than they ever wanted to.
And to the driver of that green mystery minivan (if you’re out there reading this): don’t sweat it. Most of us forgot your license plate number five minutes later.
We just remember the movie really, really well.
(If anyone followed you home to finish watching… well that would be a whole other blog post.)